It
by markab
Summary: It comes to her every night. Set in 19th Century Paris.


_**IT.**_

SOMEWHERE IN PARIS, 1890

_**It**_ holds me close. _**It**_ consumes me when I sleep. _**It**_ has since I was 16 years old, like I am ripened, and was ready to pick.

The metallic taste on ones lips. The colour of cherries. I lick at them. I savour the taste, because it was like it every night.

Mother told me that I was a dreamer. That I should find some rich influencial man that I could make and settle a life with.

But why? Why must I when I can taste _**it**_...my love guardian the one whose always there for me at the deadiest of nights.

Father says nothing. He just sits in that stuffy old chair in the study, reading musty old volumes under a reading lamp.

Always the same, him. Wearing black velvet jackets and neck ties that were only a hairs breath of choking him.

_**It**_ likes to choke me. Especially when I'm in the mood to taste _**it.**_.

I like to stare out on sunny days in my silken night dress just waiting for the sun to go down. So that darkness came come and I can lie on my lumpy wood post bed and wait for _**it**_.

I usually like to platt my hair and wear bright red ribbons, because I know _**it**_ likes me like that.

_**It**_ keeps me young and fresh.

But tonight feels different. It had felt different all day. Not once, but twice did I hear carriages pull up outside of the house and strange men I have never seem before keep my father in meetings in the parlour.

Keeping my father from his reading.

The maids were in and out, serving up fine wine and cheese for fathers guests whoever they were.

I sat on the top step and watched as the men left and were back again a few hours later. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed 2 when they first came, and 5 on their final visit.

I didn't want this to bother me, but it did...it felt like they were talking about me.

Maybe father was arranging for my marriage. Maybe these gentlemen were forced suitors for my hand.

I longed for night. I longed for _**it**_ to take me...if I marry, then I'll lose _**it**_ forever..._**it**_ will find someone else to feed on.

Someone would feel _**it's**_ warm breath on theirs. Someone else would taste _**it**_. The metallic taste that flowed through me.

That would never happen. I wouldn't allow that to happen. Why should I?

At last the sun was gone and I stayed in my room like I always do, except for a sunday when I would go for a walk with mother in the park.

That's when I had to get dressed up. All frills and velvet and ribbons and uncomfortable satire...I hated it and when I got back to my room after I rid them as quickly as I could get out of them.

Tonight I sat on my bed. Tonight the cool wind came in through my open french doors. The lace curtain lapped in the gentle breeze.

I smiled to myself. I no longer had a relection. The mirror on the dresser was useless, but that was a price to pay for the goodness that was _**it**_. _**It**_ coming in and letting me suck and lick at the sweet serum that was _**it**_.

_**It**_. I call _**it**_ and an _**it**_...that's because it's not a man or a woman...not really...it's a presence with a form. A beautiful form that is only visual in my minds eye.

But that's fine...I close my eyes and I lie down to let _**it**_ feed on me and abuse me to it's hearts content.

But tonight was different. There was voices downstairs. A group of voices. Did father have visitors so late?

I go to the window and see nothing but the gas lamps. There was no traffic, there was no body about, just a full fat shiney moon that hung up above her giving the rooftops sharp shadows that lapped down to the streets below.

There was a knock on the door. NOBODY ever came to her room at this hour...not like this.

I came to the door and grasped the brass knob, turned the key, and opened it to ajar.

A man was standing there. A well dressed man, wearing alot of what father would don. A gentleman.

He smiled warmly at me.

_**"please...I must enter your room...I have your father's kind permission...there is a ritual I need to carry out, my child"**_

Ritual? What kind of ritual? I never replied to him, I just stared at him.

_**"Please miss...it has been going on for too long now...it's time you were made free of it's devilish desires"**_

I look down to the silver cross in his grasp. It was plain and simple.

I shake my head and was about to close the door, when the man put his black shiney boot in it.

_**"I have to DO THIS...If this carries on, then your father has no choice but send you away..."**_

I don't know why, but I opened the door and let the genteman inside my bedroom.

I close the door and turn around and watch as he paces about, looking over my room. My dresser, my wardrobe, my oil lamp.

The soft glow making our faces form shadows.

I look towards the window...there was no way _**it**_ was going to come tonight...not with a stranger in the room.

This gentleman stranger went to the window and closed it gently. Then turned and smiled at me.

_**"For years you have endured this...but I can see that the route of the problem is too deep...gone much too far as I feared..."**_

He was looking to the mirror on my dresser. At both of us...but there was only him...but I knew that anyway.

_"Are you going to force it away? Are you going to excorcise it away from me...?"_

There was a trembling of fear in my very own voice.

_**"Child..."**_**, **and he came and took my hand into his and gave me a warm smile that reminded me of my late grandfather.

_**"...if I was to force this thing away...then it is likely that you will fall foul to it's desires"**_

I stare at him...at first I am lost in that grandfatherly smile. I am confused. I am caught off guard.

_**"How long has it's unearthly presence come to you, child? You can tell me...I have dealt with many others like yourself... that...have fallen victim to it's unnatural existance"**_

I look to the window.

_**"It comes to you every night...it makes you want it even more...it feeds on you...not just your blood...but it's wants your soul, too"**_

I swallow and sit on the bed, I start to twirl with my finger the platt that hung on my shoulder, the red ribbon that _**it**_ liked.

_"It won't come...it won't come when you are here"_

The gentleman sat beside me and took my hand, "_**I know...but I am here not to confront it...but to stop it from destroying your soul furthe**_r"

I smiled at him, "_but, like you just informed me...it is too late for me...I have no soul...I have no image...as you can see there is no me"_

The gentleman got up and made for the window. He held up the silver cross and charted something I couldn't understand...was it latin?

The energy built up from within me. From within me where my soul should have been, maybe.

I stood up like I wasn't in control anymore...I looked at the gentlemen. He had his back to me, chanting.

I Move towards him like my feet were not on the floor. My hands are out ahead of me...I cannot help it, but I was tearing at his face...he was helpless because I had a great strength within me I never thought that I had.

He was on the floor. Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. I knee down and brushed my hand over his face to close the eyes that stared out in horror.

Then my fingers dabbed the blood and they were to my lips...tasting the metallic essence.

It tasted good...it tasted like..._**it's**_. My guardian of the night...Now I have made my first kill something is happening to me.

And it was from that time..._**it**_ never came to me again...because from that moment on, I didn't exist no more.

The newspaper told all about the murder of the chaplain. And the mysterious disppearance of what was once myself.

I float about knowing nothing of the daytime...just the night time when I can see above the roof tops and see into windows of beautiful boys going to bed.

There is a beautiful boy I am visiting now. I have come to him for a couple of nights. He is young, maybe 15 or 16, not quite a man.

But he is ripe and he wants me like I want him...he tastes me...he lets me abuse him...and he yearns for me to come to him everynight.

I have become my very own..._**it**_.

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_**please leave a review after you have read this...it's good to know what readers think.**_


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